Elintézetlen: Unfinished Business: Cut Me Loose
by Decidedly Average
Summary: "It's ironic, really, that your tie should be through science, biology - the reason the two of you became one in the first place. But is it just that, which holds you together? Blood, cells, affinity. You know, with a bond like that, one can never be cut loose." - Nikki sees fit to keep her son from his father, but is it just Kit's heart she is protecting? Follow on from 'Affinity'
1. Changes

**A very warm welcome to part 4!**

**KiwiSWFan, I know you're about ready to burst, and I can tell you that you'll be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel in this story...but I might put it out again...then again, I might not, you'll have to wait and see! ;)**

**Your support and feedback really keeps me going with these, that goes for all of you, so if you could spare a wee minute to jot down a review, I would be most grateful! Thanks!**

**As usual, I don't own anything, except Baby K, he's all mine :P**

**I hope you all enjoy! Looking forward to hearing what you think! xx**

* * *

_"I thought that would be it, when we got married. That I would have him then. Forever._

_But you see, darling, that's not the way he works, really. He's a free spirit._

_That doesn't make him a bad person though…_

_…just a bit…unorthodox…I guess we both are,_

_Daddy and I."_

Your thoughts spoken aloud are sporadic, nonchalant as you lie on your stomach, your son between your arms as you prop yourself up with your elbows. Though you don't feel any angst, or concern, or worry on the subject anymore.

It couldn't matter less.

Not now your baby is safe, at home, with you.

Instead, you now worry about silly things, all revolving around this new, unfamiliar but blissful world you inhabit. The most recent one having cropped up during a trip to Tesco between feeds when an old woman (one of many, you've noticed) stops to fuss over him.

_"Ooh look at him! How old is he?"_

_Christ._ You don't know.

Do you take it from his birth? If you do, he's almost 5 months old. Or from when he should have been born? Just over 3 months ago…

You've had him home for just a week. One week when you've never felt so happy, so relieved, so complete. You'd move the earth for him, and you know Harry would too.

He just has a funny way of showing it.

A couple of weeks ago, you assume Janet had entered into a most-awkward-dinner-party competition and invited the two of you, plus Harry and Leo, round to hers.

After dinner, you'd stood at the fire, still involved in the conversation. The atmosphere had been quite pleasant despite all that water under the bridge between the four of you; the open fire created a warm glow through the room, seemingly warming the hearts of its inhabitants. As Janet coos over Kit, he starts to cry and she freezes, panicked, unsure how to handle the situation. Both you and Harry had moved to take him from her, but you'd reached him first, leaving Harry to awkwardly console Janet, blaming the heat and late hour for his inability to settle. You didn't miss the awkward look shared between she and Leo afterwards. For a while you had stood with him, rocking side to side and he had drifted off to sleep. You could feel Harry watching you and if you're not very mistaken, for a good 45 minutes, he didn't take his eyes from you.

You wonder if he saw the change in you.

The change you see in yourself.

That happy glow, the permanent smile, maybe more like the Nikki he used to know.

More like her, but different.

You're a mother now. You have different priorities, different aspirations, drives. You don't live for yourself anymore. Even your tone of voice is different. You're less highly strung.

Perhaps he'll never truly know this new you.

Unable to cope any longer under the intense gaze of the father of your child, you had quietly removed yourself from conversation and headed for the kitchen.

Kit remained fast asleep as you tucked him into his carrier and deftly packed his worldly goods back into the massive bag you now carry everywhere. The cold, clinical feeling of the kitchen is a stark contrast to the previous room, and you take an extra baby blanket out of the bag and gently tuck it around him as he sleeps.

_"Going somewhere?"_

You don't jump, you felt him there before he'd even opened his mouth. His voice was deep, mysterious, he seemed to be making an attempt to be funny. You're not laughing.

_"He needs his bed."_

_"I'll drive you."_

_"I'm gonna call a taxi."_

_"I don't mind taking you, besides they won't know how to strap him in."_

_"Honestly, it's fine."_

_"It would be nice just to see him for a bit longer-"_

_"I said I'll manage."_

There's a tension between the two of you again. You seem to run in cycles. Things are normal, friendly almost, then there is tension, then a sudden emotional outburst.

Then back to the start.

The last outburst seemed to fade into oblivion afterwards. After that night in the Neonatal ward. On those lonely nights that followed you'd thought it through and put it down to euphoric relief. A rush of blood to the head. A momentary lapse of reason, or some other appropriate album title. You'd left it at that. It was better left alone, anyway.

You had snapped at him that night at Janet's. He had a bad habit of interfering, acting as if you should need him, as if you couldn't manage on your own, as if you need his help. You don't. You have been trying to make this as clear as possible by keeping well out of his way where possible. You can be a single mother. Your own Mother did it for some years, why shouldn't you? You can also be a working single mother. Another thing that Harry doesn't seem to agree with.


	2. Explosion

**So this is chapter two!**

**I've not really got much to say, for a change, only sorry for the wait and I hope you all enjoy.**

**I'm really tired and a bit stressed and it's only the start of the semester, so any kind words would be much appreciated ;)**

**Sorry. That was a total guilt trip! Haha!**

**xxx**

* * *

She'd always been stubborn. _Give it a month or two and she'll cool off, _you'd thought. You assumed given time she would become a little less... possessive... of him. Of course he was still very young, he _needed_ his Mother.

But where does that leave you?

And today was just the final straw.

It was late…or early. No less than 3am anyway and there was a murder case on and as usual, you found it impossible to switch off. You'd decided to be the bigger person and meet up with Emma the previous day after work, put her in the picture. Explain. Apologise.

The worst part was you're not sure that you did it for yourself, or her. You did it to prove your maturity to someone.

Someone who happened to be sitting at her desk as you come in, staring, mesmerised at a computer screen.

At first it's the shock of seeing her there that gets you. At her _own_ desk. And for the first time since…well, in a very long time.

Then, it is the double take you give in the direction of Leo's office before realising there is a travel cot in there…

"_What the bloody hell are you doing?"_

She seems to misunderstand the enormity of the situation.

"_Leo wanted me to do this face for his case and I thought I might as well do it now."_

"_And what about him?"_

You wave your arms at the baby in her own, keeping your voice as low as you can bear to, so as not to wake him. You are hit with sudden devastation when you notice he has grown since you last saw him. Precious centimeters that you weren't there to witness.

"_What about him? He's fine."_

"_You've brought him here?"_

"_Yes."_

"_So you can work?"_

"_He wasn't settling, it was as good a chance as any."_

How can she be so nonchalant? You are beyond angry now. Part of you wishes Leo was here to drag you out of the situation before you explode. You can feel the muscles in your neck, your chest, tighten until you're almost wheezing for breath. But you hold it together in the presence of your son, and your voice leaves you as a low, sinister rumble.

"_I could have watched him."_

Looking half annoyed, half embarrassed she spins around in her chair, far enough for you to notice that she is breast feeding. At the computer. Whilst working. Simply out of gallantry, you look away and begin to pace, running a coarse hand through your greying hair. The embarrassment and undeniable element of awkward disappears as your anger raises its head once again. You can't believe that she is working and she didn't even consider giving you that time, that _precious_ time in which she was obviously occupied, with your son. You weren't even considered.

"_It wasn't personal Harry, it was practical!"_

"_Well I'm overjoyed that he fits into your schedule! That must be such a relief for you!"_

"_Oh don't be ridiculous!"_

"_I'm ridiculous? You're the one who can't let him out of your sight for five minutes! No one else gets a chance!"_

"_So you think I'm bringing him to the ball with me this year?"_

The annual university staff ball was always a big occasion. The two of you had been every year.

Every year you dreaded it.

Every year she looked stunning.

Every year she made it bearable.

"_You're going?"_

"_Of course I'm bloody going. What, did you think the instant I became a Mother that was all I'd ever do?"_

You are silent, stewing in a pool of sizzling anger, as she pulls down her top and lifts your half asleep baby through to Leo's office. As she passes, you take a quiet moment just to take him in, watch him sleep. The closest you'll get to him tonight. The closest you've been_ permitted_ in a while. When she comes back out, she shuts the door gently behind her.

"_Who's having him?"_

"_I've got a sitter."_

She speaks in a low voice, desperately attempting to diffuse the situation; if for nothing else for the sake of her son and her own sanity you assume. But you cannot get your head around it. You feel cheated, betrayed, castrated, completely and utterly bypassed. Didn't you matter? Didn't you exist? Didn't you get a say in anything at all?

"_Why didn't you ask Mum?"_

"_Harry, I'm not just going to leave her with a 3 month old baby."_

"_But you'll happily leave him with a complete stranger?"_

"_Harry –"_

"_So, does it have references? This…'sitter'?"_

You can sense things getting heated between the two of you again. It happens every so often. Friends or lovers. Together or apart. Every so often you need a release. And it's always aimed at each other. She marches over to the glass pane, pulling at her hair, her back to you as you boil in the corner.

"_Oh for god's sake!"_

"_Well sorry for being interested in the welfare of my son."_

"_Our son!"_

You've moved towards her now and before you know it she has turned and you've grabbed her elbows roughly, her face inches from your own. You spit your words at her like venom.

"_Well congratulations, you've finally acknowledged that he does have a Father, wonder who he is? Do let me know if you ever figure it out." _With that you resist the urge to throw her in a temper, back away and leave the room, the building and eventually the car park.

There had been no comeback as you had left the room. She had been silent. There was no doubt you had won that argument. It didn't feel the same, though. You didn't feel that sense of achievement or satisfaction that you used to, having dominated her, having got the last word.

All you feel is the inevitable cycle happening again, equilibrium, disruption, explosion.

You wonder if this cycle will continue now, until the end of time. Now that you have this link, binding you together. It's ironic, really, that your tie should be through science, biology. The reason the two of you became one in the first place. But is it just that, which holds you together? Blood, cells, affinity. You know, with a bond like that, one can never be cut loose.

But then again, you're not sure you'd really want to be.


	3. The Promise of Stars

**Maybe the light at the end of the tunnel?**

**I don't own the song, coldplay do! x**

* * *

They don't see each other again until the impending ball at the end of the following month.

It has been an Indian summer again, the sweltering heat, unusual so late in September. It wasn't like this the previous year.

Not that either of them would have noticed. Too much had happened this time last year.

The evening is welcomed with the sun's orange glow and a breeze settles in, acting as some light relief from the day's heat.

This year, the ball is held in a pretentious and quite frankly unaffordable, large country house, but against the hot summer night, with a clear sky and the promise of stars, it almost looks magical, as if it didn't exist for the rest of the year and had magically appeared specifically for this night. As if, on entry, problems, arguments, worries could all be left at the door along with your coat and a joyous and relaxed atmosphere could be obtained as easily as the champagne glass leaves the tray as she lifts it on her way in.

She knows it's common and boring and not usually her scene, but she chooses to wear black this year; a long black off the shoulder dress with a little bit of glitter. It successfully hides some of the post-baby lumps that still exist. She wears silver, glittering shoes to spice things up a bit, hair down; between sorting Kit's bottles and helping the babysitter find her way around the kitchen, there just wasn't time. She doesn't stop to wonder to herself who she is dressing for.

She sees him first, by instinct not choice, standing at the bar in the lobby, deep in thought and she approaches him. When he sees her coming, he seems to freeze for a split second, eyes wide, staring, before speaking quietly.

"_Nik, look. The other week I – "_

She doesn't let him finish. She's had time to think. Time to realise and understand what really matters in all this. The promise of stars has quite enamoured her. She slides a card across the marble bar towards him.

"_Her name is Jenny Hutton. She's 21, the daughter of an old friend from uni. She's looked after babies before, she knows what she's doing. Her number's on there and she says you can call her at any point to check how he's doing."_

"_Thank you."_

"_We were both in the wrong."_

They share a short look before he turns to the barman and orders a gin and tonic with extra lemon and a pint of Stella. It amazes her that he still remembers what she drinks. He takes the drinks and puts a straw in hers before sliding it over to her.

Just like he used to.

"_Enjoying yourself?"_

"_Of course not. "_

She smiles and the atmosphere between them seems a little bit warmer than it has been of late.

"_Are you going through?"_

"_Yes. No dancing, though."_

When they enter the main body of the building, she disappears into the crowds and he doesn't see her face again until much later.

He's never really been one for mingling, preferring to let people come to him. And come to him they do and he is soon approached by Professor Greg Jenkins from the English department. It startles him how much older Leo's friend seems after just a few years. He quickly realises that the man in front of him could be thinking the exact same thing. And my god how the last year has aged him.

Having not seen each other since the last gathering, they exchange pleasantries before Greg announces he is heading out to fetch a drink, leaving Harry with a final murmur;

"_Your wife is looking radiant as always, you're a lucky man, Dr Cunningham."_

Jenkins had always been a bit of a creep, especially when it came to Nikki. In fact in any other circumstance, after a comment like that, Harry wouldn't have hesitated in knocking each and every one of his teeth out, yet he feels a little something shatter inside him at this, the sheer innocence of this man old enough to be his father. He hasn't got a clue. He could explain, pour out everything about his mental state, his son, the unforgivable way he treated _her_, but then, perhaps in some situations, ignorance really _is_ bliss.

"_That I am."_

Perhaps it is the alcohol or the sudden courage to follow his heart that convinces him it is a good idea to put his hand on her waist and softly whisper in her ear how beautiful she looks after he easily picks her out in a large gathering later on.

Immediately she tenses and there is a look shared between some other Lyell Centre members of staff in the vicinity, especially forensics. They always did love a good gossip.

She has rushed from the room before he has a chance to do any more.

He finds her soon after on the balcony upstairs, looking out into the night sky.

He doesn't apologise. Because she _does_ look beautiful. More beautiful than the day she showed him just how well she could play hockey, or that day at the conference…and later at the pub, or the day he found her fast asleep on her couch during working hours, or even each and every time he had watched her working at her desk, hand over her growing stomach, brow furrowed in concentration, positively glowing. Pregnancy had suited her. Yet she seems to get more radiant each time he sees her, it doesn't matter if it has been weeks, or days, or minutes…

"_Have you called her?"_

Regrettably, it hadn't even crossed his mind to check how the sitter was getting on with his son.

"_I didn't feel I needed to. I do trust your judgement you know."_

Her red lips are pursed together, tense, as she turns back to the view in her floor length black gown. In the light of the moon, the tiny sequins scattered on its surface seem to glisten like stars. He decides to confront the issue that has led them out there in the first place.

"_Aren't I allowed to pay my own wife a compliment?"_

"_Stop it."_

Her voice is firm, but shaky, as if she is trying with all her might not to cry. He turns on his heels, spinning round to watch her as slender hands leave the cold stone of the balcony and she glides back towards the door.

"_Stop what?"_

She spins round, fire blazing in reddening eyes.

"_Look, I messed up, I understand now. I don't have any right to stop you seeing your son, and to stop him having you in his life. But I get it, okay! You don't need to…to do this. You're just making things so much harder."_

He is confused now, and moves carefully towards her, a hand on her bare arm ignites something between them that had been long since repressed. The atmosphere is not charged, it seems as though the cycle between them has been broken. There is no pretence. They are too tired for that now.

"_What is it you think I am doing?"_

The look she gives him almost breaks his heart. Being so estranged from her intimately, he had almost forgotten the_ real_ her, underneath the confident and tough exterior she presents. Right now in her eyes he can see the insecure and unloved, un-nurtured little girl that she hides from the world, from people that could hurt her.

She's never hidden it from him.

"_Don't use me. Don't use me to get to him. You have him already, I've said that but just…let me go…"_

"_Christ you really don't trust me, do you?"_

He can't honestly believe that even after everything, she would think that of him. That she would think that he would seduce her, just to satisfy his paternal interests. That she thought he would _use _her like that. He knows her emotions are still raw. So are his. He knows if it wasn't for him and his stupidity, they would almost certainly still be together. She never asked for any of this mess. All she ever wanted was him, as her constant. Forever. And he blew it. He wants to tell her how sorry he is and how much he loves her. But in the end, all that comes out is the truth, in its simplest and most innocent form.

"_I miss my best friend."_

As if on cue, the low sound of a song breaks the silence between them and they watch the colour drain in each other's faces as the memories flood in. Their soundtrack.

The soundtrack of looking into one another's eyes, slowly, intensely. Falling in love.

Languid love making during summer evenings.

Intimate dancing at their wedding as if there was no one else in the room.

"_Come on, you have to dance to this one."_

Before she knows what has happened she finds herself in the middle of the floor, her hand in his while his other brushes torturously against her waist. He can feel how tense she is and it upsets him; if she can't be comfortable with her own husband, the father of her child, then who has she got?

_Come on, oh my star is fading__,__  
__And I swerve out of control,__  
__If I, if I'd only waited,__  
__I'd not be stuck here in this hole._

"_Do you remember where we were when we first heard this song?"_

Eating curry. Her apartment. Coldplay playlist. The domesticity and romance of the evening hadn't been lost on either of them.

"_Yes."_

"_Do you remember how you felt."_

For the first time since the start of the dance she lifts her eyes to his own.

_Come on, oh my star is fading,__  
__And I see no chance of release,__  
__And I know I'm dead on the surface,__  
__But I am screaming underneath._

"_Close your eyes."_

After slight hesitation she does so with a heavy sigh, for the first time in a very long time, allowing herself to trust him. The weight that is lifted from her, when she finally stops resisting, is liberating.

"_Do you remember the last time we danced to this?"_

"_Yes."_

_And time is on your side,__  
__It's on your side now,__  
__Not pushing you down, and all around,__  
__No it's no cause for concern._

"_Do you remember what I said to you?"_

"…_No."_

He knows she does, because he remembers it as clear as yesterday. He remembers the way he held her, the way he spoke, the way she reacted. For a split second he wonders why she's lying. Until he realises the only reason it could possibly be. The reason he only dared dream of.

She wants to hear it _again_.

He mirrors her, and closes his eyes too in an attempt to get it all back, that feeling of wholeness and anticipation and love. They have both shut off the world and travelled back, when things were much simpler. He pulls her closer, curling his arm tighter around her back and allowing his hands to slide over the fabric of her dress, intimately low on her back, almost reaching the curve of her buttocks. He lowers his head and raises her hand, still entwined with his own and places a soft kiss to her knuckles before opening one eye to check her reaction.

To his surprise she already looks lost, eyes still shut and the stress etched on her face from moments before has gone and has been replaced with barely-there bliss.

_Stuck on the end of this ball and chain,__  
__And I'm on my way back down again,__  
__Stood on a bridge, tied to the noose,__  
__Sick to the stomach._

She has a sudden rush of longing. To be kissed by him, held, touched, loved, the way he used to and she allows him to pull her closer, feeling a knot tighten in her stomach as she senses his face leaning ever closer to her own until she feels his lips on her jaw.

She hasn't drunk much tonight, but she can barely breathe. He has always known how to push her buttons, how to turn her on, trick her into making idiotic decisions with relative ease, but tonight she senses, it's not about that. They have both lost themselves in the music and the memories it holds. He moves his lips across her skin, just like he did all those moons ago until he reaches her ear.

Feeling her breath, hot against his neck, he repeats the words he spoke to his new wife in the sweltering heat of South Africa. On their wedding night.

"_I'm not perfect, but there is nothing on this earth that will ever stop me from loving you."_

And just like that, he watches her fall. All over again.

_You can say what you mean,__  
__But it won't change a thing,__  
__I'm sick of the secrets,__  
__Stood on the edge, tied to the noose.__  
_

She has lost herself in the memories of their wedding , everything else forgotten as she rubs her cheek against his, a dreamy expression on her face as she buries her face in the crook of his neck and allows him to sway her. He turns his face to hers on his shoulder, eyes closed, hardly daring to look he moves closer, closer, closer until he can almost feel her parted lips under his own.

_You came along and you cut me loose__  
__You came along and you cut me loose_

It's true. Everything had been his fault. Had he waited, waited for recovery, stability, resisted her just for that little bit longer, maybe things would have been different.

But none of that matters.

Because it was what he felt for her that gave him the strength to become the person he is.

None of it matters.

Because he loves her.

_You came along and you cut me loose._

The music finishes as soon as it had started.

The moment is gone.

They drop each other. Fast.

"_Oh shit I have to get back!"_

She jumps up, holding her head, the stress suddenly back. A flush rising in her cheeks as she comes back to reality. Realising what she let happen. What she just let him do. He takes his chance at breaking the ice.

"_What, before you turn into a pumpkin?"_

She's too used to his witty remarks and this one does little to lighten the now heavy mood between them.

"_Can I come with you?"_

She freezes and stares at him in horror.

"_Just to wish him good night, then I'll go. I just want to say goodnight."_

* * *

The hall is lit by a soft blue glow as she opens the door to his room.

He creeps in after her, avoiding the paper aeroplanes hanging, suspended from the ceiling, a nice touch he thinks and wonders if she thought of him when she put them up.

He is lying on his back, arms outstretched and hair askew. Neither of them can supress a smile as their eyes land on him.

"_How on Earth did we make something as perfect as this?"_

He leans in to stroke his hair, completely mesmerised by the small boy in front of him.

Nikki announces her fatigue and tells him she is going to bed. She tells him he can stay if he wants and that the spare room is his if he wants it. She saw the look on his face when he saw him. Nothing else seemed to matter to him anymore.

She wasn't sure she'd ever seen someone so happy.

Who was she to get in the way of that?


	4. Wishful seconds

**Hello again!**

**This was a short one, the next one is pretty short too, so this is the end of 'Cut Me Loose'! You'll be glad to know, sorry if its dragging on a bit, nearly there now!**

**A few of you lovely, amazing reviewers requested a bit more Daddy Harry and luckily I had this already written, hope it fill the void!**

**Once again, thank you everyone who reviews and reads! xx**

* * *

You're not an idiot.

You've been alive a lot longer than they have.

You know _it _when you see _it._

You saw the way they were around each other last night at the ball. Acting like newlyweds. They had been through a lot the past decade. No two people can go through that without having an emotional connection at the end of it, surely? They were like addictive medication to each other, you muse. Drawing each other in. _Addiction:_ with potentially dangerous consequences. Harry has remarkably picked himself up in the past few months, and the Nikki of the present is much less likely to dive into things head first,_ passion_ first.

But love does things to people.

You scrutinise Harry carefully when he comes in the night after the ball. On time, fresh clothes, in fact he looks no different from usual. He sits down, makes a quick phone call before settling down to work, apparently with nothing other on his mind. You are almost disappointed that something more obviously didn't happen between them.

You shake your head. They confuse you, those two, but you expect they are just as confused as you are. You decided a long time ago that it was best to leave them to it. They're both adults…_technically_ at least.

The day passes at a normal pace, until at some point during the early afternoon you see a crowd of lab techs, Charlie and Zak included jostling towards the doors, and then back into the body of the office, _Ah- ing _and cooing quietly.

Intrigued as to what has caused the commotion you leave your office to find Nikki, seemingly dressed in the first thing she could find in true _tired, dazed and confused new mother_ fashion, placing the baby carrier onto Harry's desk. She gives a small laugh and rolls her eyes in your direction as the lab techs swamp the carrier, prodding and grinning and pulling faces.

_"Ah! He's soooo tiny! You took your time! We've been waiting for you to bring him in for weeks!"_

_"Don't start! You don't have a clue! You're lucky I managed to find the front door this morning!"_

When Harry comes in moments later, his eyes light up and he fights his way through the crowd to get to Kit.

"_Hello little one!"_

Gently he unclips the straps separating them and lifts him into his arms as his colleagues watch in awe.

It's refreshing, the love that their colleagues show your godson, after everything that has happened the comments made in the lab have never been anything but positive; how beautiful he is, how excited they are to see him, the almost 'celebrity' status they endow him with.

You don't blame them. He really is the most beautiful baby...

Who appears to adore his Father, despite the lack of time they've supposedly spend together. He has rested his head on Harry's shoulder as he rocks him gently, rubbing a hand over his back, smoothing out his tiny t-shirt. This could well be the first time they have been together like this since the hospital, without the interference of an over protective Mother.

And the uncharacteristic contented smile on Nikki's face as she watches them together doesn't escape you either.

After a few moments she leaves them and walks towards you and you exchange pleasantries as you invite her into your office.

"_So, what's up? Is it the facial reconstruction? Second guessing yourself?"_

"_No, no, not at all. I just…thought Harry should spend some time with Kit, is all."_

"_That's why you're here?"_

You raise your eyebrows at her and her reply seems almost shaky, sheepish.

"_I want him to have everything that I didn't."_

You look past her, through the window back into the office. Harry is holding his son up into the air, before swinging him down and back up again. Kit is chuckling heartily, an infectious sound that seems to infect the rest of the lab, some of whom seem to be almost crying with laughter. The sight warms your heart no end. Nikki continues to speak.

"_That includes having a father. A father that will love him, and protect him. A good father. And he is a good father Leo, despite everything else."_

You know that. You always knew that. That is, you knew he always would be. He has that playful side to him, along with his firmer, more serious side that helps him do his job, and do it well. You watch his smile now and the Harry from before, the relapsed, depressed Harry has completely melted away. He is gentle, happy, relaxed with his son. But there is something different about the way he holds himself. It's as if he has more of a presence, pride. He reminds you of yourself.

It is as if he has finally grown up.

"_Kit certainly loves him."_

"_And I don't have any right to deprive either of them of that."_

She seems saddened, but more relaxed in Harry's presence than you've seen her in a very long time; happy to let them have their much needed time together. You know she was scared, who wouldn't be? A first time Mother. Alone. The problem was that she took the term _alone _literally, readily pushing Harry away, convinced she had to do this alone.

You were a parent once.

You know that would have been verging on impossible.

"_And I hope we can become friends."_

You glance back at her, but she's looking out across the office, towards them, lost in thought it seems. Her eyes seem glazed and although you know they land on Harry and Kit, her mind seems miles away, somewhere else entriey. A few blinks and she is back with you. She sighs and smiles. She looks fresh today, uplifted, you notice, as if a large weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

"_We best get going."_

She stands and leans down to kiss your cheek, before leaving the room, looking back once to flash you a small smile. You watch as she adopts an exaggerated creep towards Harry, who has his back to her. Kit sees her from over his father's shoulder and his tiny face lifts as he beams at her.

You can't help think, as child passes from Father to Mother, and despite their ridiculous attempts to make Kit laugh, that they have both grown up substantially in the past year. You feel proud of them, that they were big enough to put the past and everything else aside for the sake of their child. To give him an upbringing with two parents who get along, who can be civil to each other.

You can't help overhear the conversation between them as they near the door.

"_Did you get what you came in for?"_

You see a smile grace her face through the blinds.

"_He did."_

"_That was good of you. Thanks."_

"_Anytime, Harry, whenever you want to see him. Even if you just miss him. Day or night. I mean that. Anytime."_

She leaves and he remains in the door way for a few minutes after, watching them go, a faint smile on his face.

For a wishful second, you wonder if it is just Kit he's been missing.


End file.
